The 87th Annual Hunger Games
by The Girl With The Knives
Summary: *Bear with me I'm bad with summaries.* A new year, a new Hunger Games, a new Head Gamemaker, and a whole new set of tributes. What's in store for these unlucky 24 souls and who will be the final Victor? Rated T because of violence(It's the Hunger Games for crying out loud) and very mild language.
1. Prologue

**Heyo! I'm back from my very long hibernation. I'm really sorry I haven't updated in an eternity... I was thinking my other SYOT is kind of dead, but I miss writing a SYOT, and I got the groove back so... why not make another SYOT? Also I was thinking that maybe if I finished this SYOT it would give me a self-esteem boost so that I could finish the other one even if nobody ends up reading it... Anyway, enjoy, and I will shortly put up the form on my profile. :)**

It's 1am and I still haven't thought up an original and useful idea for the arena. I groan and lean back into my chair. Why was _I_ voted to be Head Gamemaker? I rub my eyes and sigh. It's been a stressful few weeks, but the next month is going to be even worse. I rub my eyes and try to sit straighter in my chair, but my back hurts so _badly_. I lean forward and pick up my newest map. It's a giant desert with caves and tunnels all around the arena and an oasis in the middle. I had felt so good about it when I first thought of it, but now I'm realizing just how stupid it would be. The tributes wouldn't be able to make fires and the landscape is so flat they could see each other for miles. The Games would be over before you could blink.

I angrily crumple the map between my hands and through it in the general direction of my trash can. I stand up from my seat and pick up a pillow from the purely decorational couch in my living room. I take a deep breath and then scream as loud as I can into the pillow. Once I run out of air and start getting light-headed, I bring my face away from the pillow, gently set it down, and tuck away the strands of bright pink hair back behind my ears. As I look around at my small complex nestled in the depths of the Capitol, I realize just what a mess it is. Crumpled maps of arena ideas are thrown about the room, most near the garbage can. Drab yellow curtains that were last year's trend hang from the large window on one side of the room. The tables and couches and desks are all supposed to be decorational, since most Capitolites spend their life outside all the time, partying or living in hotels, since they're fancier than their real homes. Only the very rich people who throw the parties and have no other parties to go to have sofas and furniture meant for use.

I'm not rich yet, but I'm sure in a few years I will be. President Turk has known me the longest out of all of the other Gamemakers. I had always wanted to be a Gamemaker when I grew up, and now I realize just how much work it is. Of course, it is fun and it's interesting to see the tributes every year, but it's a difficult job. And being Head Gamemaker is even worse! I was so surprised when I was voted to be the next Head Gamemaker by President Turk and the rest of the Gamemakers so soon. I feel honored and also I feel a lot of pressure. I haven't been a Gamemaker for long and I don't actually have that much money for a Capitolite. If I can just come up with an amazing and outlandish arena design, I'm sure that President Turk will be impressed with me and will trust me completely. The first year is always the hardest for a Gamemaker…

I walk around my room, picking up arena ideas and tossing them into the garbage can. I end up cleaning up my whole condo and tearing down the curtains hanging over the musky windows. I finally step back and look at my work, happy with it. This place looks so much nicer, now that I've finally cleaned it. I glance out my window and see in the City Square that my fellow Capitolites are partying again, and celebrating the upcoming Hunger Games by trying to watch as many previous Hunger Games as possible before the next ones.

Tonight is actually a very nice night. When I check the temperature, it's only about an 80 degree night. A perfectly warm night with a bit of a breeze. I change from my comfy pajamas into exercise clothes and stuff my keys into my pockets. Then I dash out the door and tiptoe out of the building I live in, although most of my neighbors are probably at that party right now.

I start jogging down the street, something rarely any of the Capitolites do nowadays. I believe in natural beauty instead of altering yourself to look a certain way. Unfortunately I'm one of the only few who think like that. Every now and then I hear shouts and boos and whoops from the party when something interesting happens, but I just want to get as far away from that party and my home as possible. Eventually I get extremely tired and my breathing starts coming in short, quick gasps. I pause by a large, graceful fountain and bend over, putting my hands on my knees to try to calm my breathing. A million thoughts are running through my head like where in the Capitol I am, how to get home, what time it is, if I will ever come up with a good arena design, if I really am a good Gamemaker or not, if that car that's driving by is slowing down for any particular reason…

I stand up and look towards the car. I can't recognize it because it's headlights are blinding me. One of the doors opens and a medium-sized man steps out and walks towards me. "Victor!" I shout in recognition. "What are you doing here?" I ask, trying to also figure out where _here_ actually is.

"What am _I_ doing here? Fawn, I live around the block. I was actually driving to your place because I heard there was a party going on over there," Victor says, running a hand through his orange curls. He blinks two dazzling golden eyes at me, waiting for me to explain myself.

"Uh, yeah, sorry. There's a party over there. I just kind of accidentally jogged over here," I mutter, staring at my feet.

" _Accidentally_ jogged over here? Are you like a homing pigeon or something?" Victor asks, laughing at his own joke. I roll my eyes. _Homing pigeons do the opposite of what I'm doing,_ I think. Of course probably no other Capitolites know that. Only the Gamemakers really need to research all that.

"Yeah, well, I have a lot of pressure on me right now and I thought I could jog it off," I say. I've known Victor for quite a while now and he has never once truly judged me for being different from the other Capitolites.

"Pressure? Are the Games getting to you again?" Victor asks, walking over to me.

"Yes! And especially since I'm Head Gamemaker this year, I have to come up with an _arena_ design. Do you realize how hard that is? I've had weeks to do so and all my ideas have come up short!" I plop down onto the side of the fountain and bury my head in my hands.

I feel Victor sit himself down beside me, and I look over at him. "You're _Head_ Gamemaker?" he asks in a quiet voice.

I scoff. "Yes, haven't you seen the news?" I ask, a little more harshly than I had imagined it would sound.

"No, not really. I've just been cramming Hunger Games things in lately. There's not really enough time for the news…" he mutters, staring at the concrete sidewalk. "I can't believe _you're_ the Head Gamemaker. That's incredible," he continues in awe.

"Yeah, well, it's hard work," I say. Victor laughs at me and I turn to look at him, frustrated.

"I could help you! I made a lot of fake arena's when I was younger just for the fun of it. I was a very creative child." He gives me a playful wink and then shoulders me in a friendly way, but I'm much too tired from my run, and I fall straight backwards in the fountain.

The rushing blue water fills my nose and my ears, and my eyes snap open and take in the light filtering through the liquid and the morphed images of the buildings and Victor's face above the water. The coldness of it finally gets to me and makes my face tingle. I swing my head up from the fountain and stumble away, wiping my face.

"I'm so sorry, Fawn!" Victor says, standing up from the fountain.

"Thank you so much! Thank you so much, Victor!" I say, taking him by the hands and dancing around with him. "I just had an epiphany! The best arena design in the history of arena designs!" _Okay maybe it isn't the best, but still. It's better than my other ones._

"A-are you okay?" Victor asks, tentatively pulling his hands out of mine once I stop dancing. I must look kinda crazy right now.

"I'm _great_ , Victor! Absolutely sparkling!" I twirl around and around, trying to remember every bit of arena that had come to me in that split second. _Do all head Gamemakers have sudden ideas like this? Is this a normal thing?_ I wonder. _And does Victor have enough room in his car for me,_ my tired legs add in.

 **So, I'm going to put the tribute list on my profile, too, once I get to that point. For now, I really don't have a limit to tributes you can enter, but I bet if more people start entering tributes, I'll end up making a limit. Maybe. For now, just enjoy a limitless submission. And I'll try to update this story more with excerpts from Hunger Games-related Capitolites if not a lot of people know this story exists. :3**

 **\- Knifey**


	2. District One Reapings

**A/N Hello, there! Sorry about taking so long to update... For some reason, getting the District One Female was a lot harder than it usually is... It was reserved, then their deadline was up, then it was reserved again... basically, it took a while. :P I literally wrote this in one night, and I should really be going to sleep now, so don't judge it too harshly... I'm way too tired to go through and re-read this for typos. I decided to write just one district per chapter because, even though reapings are boring and you want to get them over as quickly as possible, shorter chapters are easier to get through without losing interest and I can focus more on making the most out of two tributes than four tributes. Anyway, enjoy! Sorry once again for taking a while...**

 **Sable Ackerman: District One Male, 18**

The morning light washes into my dark room through the blinds on my window, causing thin shadow lines to jump onto my wall. I stay laying there in my bed for a while, just thinking, prepping myself for what's to come. Today I will volunteer. _I've trained for eight years, I'm smart, observant… I can win,_ I assure myself. I close my eyes, memories flashing behind my closed eyelids. Memories of times before I was overcome with grief, before I felt the need to train. Memories of playing with my brother, sharing secrets with him, learning from him… He was my role model.

I slowly crack open my eyes again and slide off my bed. I sigh and start to get changed for the day. I slip on dark wash jeans and a plain black T-shirt, then look for something extra to stand out. I shuffle through my dresser drawers until I eventually find a silver chain necklace. I slip it around my neck, fingering the cold metal. Maybe this could be my district token? _Not much of one, though._ Then something catches my eye. A baby pink, silk fabric is peeking out from under a few of my boxers. My hand freezes on the chain and my breath catches in my throat. I didn't even know I still had that. Painfully slowly, I reach out my other hand to lift the silk ribbon out of the drawer. It unravels as I pull it out, into a long, baby pink silk ribbon, bent in places where it had been tied into a bow.

Eight years ago, on my tenth birthday, this ribbon was tied around one of my 'presents'. I had run downstairs, expecting a table stacked high with crinkly wrapping paper and tall bags. Instead I was greeted with the mutilated corpse of my older brother, Vair, who was twelve at the time. This pink ribbon was tied in a neat little bow on the top of him, as if he was one of my presents. And there was a note that didn't say anything except, "Happy Birthday." Vair's death rocked my family deeply. My mother sank into a depression she still hasn't fully come out of, my father started working harder, which was his way of distracting himself, and I started training at the Academy.

I take a shuddering breath and gently fold up the ribbon and slide it into one of my pockets. _I'll always remember you,_ I think, fingering the ribbon in my pocket, feeling the silky smoothness of it. A light rap on my door shakes me from my daydream and I look up as my mother steps into my room, fully dressed in her finest reaping clothes.

"Breakfast is on the table for you, whenever you're ready," she says, sweetly, rubbing a lock of golden yellow hair between her fingers, nervously.

"Thanks, Mom," I murmur, closing the drawer and straightening up. She smiles at me and then quietly disappears into the hallway. She used to be so confident and sweet, but ever since Vair's death, she's been quieter, sadder… more depressed.

I make my bed and clean my room the best I can. Who knows when I'll be coming back? Then, when everything seems perfect, I shuffle out the door and down the stairs, my fingers trailing behind me on the wall. I remember coming down here that fateful morning, almost the same as now but I was more excited. I wish I had never gone downstairs. I wish I had been able to stop it, or at least find who murdered him. I wish I could get my revenge. I take the last step and see, instead of a corpse on the table, a platter of stacked pancakes with maple syrup dripping deliciously down the sides. A square of melting butter tops off the stack.

"Tasty, huh?" my father asks from behind, startling me. I turn around to see him sipping a cup of steaming coffee, examining me with cautious eyes.

"Looks like it," I respond. "Did you make this?" I turn back to the pancakes and take a seat at the table, then start eating.

"No, your mother did. I can't cook very well, don't you know that?" he says. I shrug in response, and my father sighs and takes a few more sips of coffee before going back upstairs. After I finish breakfast, I brush my teeth and touch up my jet black hair so that it's up off my forehead. I suppose I look alright, but I'm not the kind of person to always be thinking about how I look. I have blue eyes and some freckles, and am rather muscular from all the training, but I wouldn't go to say that I am extremely handsome or whatever. I don't focus on that kind of stuff. I focus on vengeance for my brother.

I check the clock on the wall of our house and see that in thirty minutes or so, the reapings will be starting. I slip on some black shoes and call up to my parents. "Are you ready to go?" I shout up the stairs, lingering by the door.

"Almost!" my father calls down from the top of the stairs, fixing his shirt collar. My mother hovers behind him, looking down on me with haunting blue eyes, similar to my own. I wait for them to come downstairs and then hold the door open for them. We don't actually live that far from the Square, only a twenty-minute walk or something close to that. Eventually, we can distantly see the rows of Peacekeepers and growing crowds of citizens. All I am thinking is that my brother's murderer is out there, and for the first time in years, butterflies course through my stomach.

 **Luna Riverdale: District One Female, 15**

"I'm so excited for you, dear," Mom says for about the fifteenth time that morning.

I roll my eyes. "It's no big deal, Mom," I mutter, kicking a round pebble with my blue flats. I instantly regret it when a light gray scuff mark shows up on the tip of the shoe.

" _No big deal?_ ," Mom repeats, disbelieving. "Honey, you're a prodigy! Do you know what other tributes have been picked by the Academy to volunteer at age _fifteen?_ " I hunch over as we walk, trying to conjure up a hole underneath me. Everyone always goes about telling me I must be the prize pupil at the Academy if I was picked to volunteer so young, but it's not only my skill that is helping me. My mother and some of my trainers have said many times that there has not been a tribute from One as beautiful as me in decades, and that if I volunteered, I would most certainly win because of my looks. In fact, that's the only thing my mom thinks I'm good at. Sitting still and looking pretty. That's one of the reasons I'm volunteering, to prove them all wrong.

"Thanks, Mom, but really, it's not that big a deal." I glance up at the crowd that we are nearing, trying to find my friends in it. Usually they're easy to spot because they have this aura of confidence about them, which is one of the reasons why our friend group is one of the most popular groups in school.

"I think you'll do wonderful. You'll get plenty of sponsors, for sure," Mom continues, smiling broadly. She looks a lot like me, with her long, slightly wavy black hair, light olive skin, and electric blue eyes. The only differences between us is that I have faint freckles and she is a bit taller and has wrinkles from her stressful, money-deprived life before marrying Benedict, my father who died in a car crash when I was five. We haven't used cars since.

Mom keeps going on and on about how proud she is of me, and I just zone out until we get to the Peacekeeper stations, where they draw your blood. "Well, bye, Mom," I say, shuffling away.

"What? Oh, bye, hon! I'm sure you'll do great! I'll just be over here, now," she says, strutting towards the adults section. I awkwardly stand in line, not really doing anything, just waiting for my turn when a fair-skinned, beautiful girl nimbly leaps beside me, as graceful as a gazelle. I notice at least six heads turn, four of them jocks and two of them jealous looking girls.

"Hi, Cecily," I say sweetly. Cecily smiles genuinely at me and tucks her fawn-colored hair behind her ears. She stands a few inches shorter than me but is just as beautiful if not more.

"Hi, Luna. I like your dress," she murmurs, eyeing the blue, mid-thigh dress I had picked out a few hours ago.

"Oh, thanks. I like your makeup today. It's very bold," I say, half-meaning it. I've never been one for makeup, but she perfectly nailed the winged eyeliner.

"Thanks, Luna. Do you know where Dazzle and Sapphire are?" she asks, peering into the crowd as if they'll magically appear.

"No clue. But we'll find them later, Phillipe should be coming out any second now," I say, craning my neck to get a good glimpse of the stage, where cameramen are double-checking everything.

" _Next_ ," a Peacekeeper impatiently growls from behind a white-clothed table. I narrow my eyes at her, but hold out my forefinger. She pricks it quickly and moves on to Cecily while I traverse around clumps of friends and cliques of completely fake girls hanging around in the aisle. The minute I find a nice little place to stand, near the aisle so that I can sprint to the stage, a tapping sound from the microphone signals that the reapings are about to start. The groups disperse and everyone gets in their spots. I mentally prepare myself for what I'm going to do, tuning out the escort, Phillipe, for a few seconds.

He speaks for a while, and then plays the annual video about the Dark Days. I yawn and then curiously look around, wondering if I spread it to anyone. A few other people yawn as well, but I can't be sure it was from me. Then again, are yawns really contagious? I start to think further along this, distracted, when I realize that Phillipe is fishing in the girl's reaping bowl for a name, although honestly it's kind of useless, since there is almost always a volunteer.

"Bethany Cristoff," he recites, unfolding a crisp slip of paper. A girl from the front walks towards the stage hesitantly, expecting some desperate girl to leap up and volunteer. I prefer to wait until the escort actually calls for volunteers. I like to think I'm civilized that way.

"How wonderful," Phillipe says, clearly a tad bit confused at the lack of volunteer excitement in the crowd. "Any volunteers?"

I pause for a second, really thinking about my decision. Then I remember my mother, my trainers, most of the people in school, always thinking I'm just a pretty face. But I'm much more than that. "Yes," I reply, casually. "I volunteer!" A few girls turn to look, and I smile sarcastically at them. I confidently stroll towards the stage, glad that there are no girls trying to beat me there. Sometimes the volunteers have to get violent before the Games even start.

"And you are?" Phillipe asks as I mount the stage.

"Luna Riverdale," I say, smiling at the crowd. Phillipe hesitates a while, probably since most volunteers recite a speech or short saying or catch-phrase after they volunteer. I'd rather not, it's not really necessary.

"Well then, congratulations, Luna Riverdale…" A few people in the audience clap, and Phillipe moves on. "How about we see which lucky boy will be competing alongside Ms. Riverdale?" A few people cheer slightly. Phillipe wastes no time combing through the slips of paper, and eventually picks one out and starts to read it. "Bra-"

"I volunteer!" a boy shouts from the back of the crowd. A buff-looking guy steps out of the crowd and cooly walks to the stage, then climbs the stairs two at a time. I narrow my eyes at him, sizing him up. Typical Career, nothing interesting there… I suddenly realize it might look like I'm glaring at him, and I instantly turn to look at Phillipe expectantly.

"And your name is…?" Phillipe questions.

"Sable Ackerman," the boy says, scanning the crowd. It seems like he's searching for something…

"How wonderful!" Phillipe says, and asks us to shake hands then herds us inside the Justice Building.

I stretch my back and arms as I sit on the plush velvet sofa in the dark room. My first visitors come quickly, and are not too surprising. Dazzle, Sapphire, and Cecily skip into the room, chattering amongst themselves. "Eek! Luna, I'm so happy for you!" Dazzle eventually says, tossing her black curls behind her shoulders.

"Yeah, you show 'em, girl," Sapphire adds in, pushing her black-rimmed glasses higher up her nose.

"Tell me what it's like! Maybe you'll get a boyfriend, there!" Dazzle continues. "Ugh, just imagine having a _Capitolite_ boyfriend… I wonder what that would be like. You should try it, Luna, that would be fun! And you can tell me all about it and maybe I can get a Capitolite boyfriend, too!" Dazzle twirls a few curls around her fingers staring into space, probably daydreaming. Dazzle always thinks about boys and gossip.

"Be smart about your strategy," Cecily says, smirking at me. "I still can't believe you're going into the famed _Hunger_ Games. It's awesome! And scary…" She nervously looks at the ground.

"I'll be fine," I reassure her. We talk more about the Capitol, strategy, and other things, and then their time is up and my next visitor comes in, Zircon Cartier. I'm surprised he didn't come in with my other friends.

"Hi, Luna," he says, digging his hands awkwardly into his hoodie pockets. "Congrats on volunteering," he mutters. I raise my eyebrows at him.

"Thanks?" I say. He smiles at me and then walks closer until he eventually sits down next to me. I stiffen up, but Zircon doesn't seem to notice. Instead, he starts talking, but really fast. So fast that I almost don't understand him.

"Listen, Luna, I really really like you, and I haven't had the guts to say it for a while now, but I am now because, well, you just volunteered, and honestly I don't know if you'll be coming back and I just wanted to get this out now before, well, you know, but I understand if you don't like me back, it's probably better that way, sorry about all this, maybe I should just go-" I interrupt him before he can go any further.

"Wow, uh, Zircon, I knew you liked me, I just didn't know how much… I don't know if I like you back. It's complicated." I start panicking, he just looks so hurt! "You know, maybe if I get back the Games I'll think about it," I say, wincing at the word if. "But right now I think there's just too much to think about."

"Yeah, okay. I understand," Zircon says glumly. Poor guy. He's cute, yeah, and funny and has a brilliant smile… Okay, maybe I like him a little, but I can't be sure. Plus, I already have to think about the Games, adding boy trouble to my list of issues would kill me… literally.

We don't talk much after that except about strategy and how to deal with the Games a little bit. Then he is asked to leave and my mother walks in. She doesn't talk about much, just tells me how proud she is and that she can't wait for me to come back. You know, typical Career mother things. I try to hide my irritation, but fail. Fortunately, she isn't very focussed on me right now, instead she's focussed on her daydreams of me and my possible victory.

"I love you, Mom," I manage to get out before she leaves the room. She quickly gets out a goodbye before the door shuts behind her. A few minutes later, three of my Academy Trainers dart into the room and start throwing strategies and ideas and tips at me, rapidfire. I answer as many questions as I can about survival and strategy and focus on the tips they give me, then repute their ideas or agree with them. When they leave, all I'm left with is emptiness for a few minutes before a Peacekeeper comes in to escort me to the train. A million thoughts are running through my mind, but I'm mostly wondering about my district partner and if this is the last time I will ever see District One and my family and friends again.

 **A/N Any kind of review is helpful, even a criticizing one. Basically, I just get happy when I see that review number go up. :P If you have any suggestions that would be helpful, I'd like to hear them, and tell me how you like the tributes for District One. :) Also tell me if there's something you didn't like about how I wrote them or anything... Credit to ApollotheSun for Luna Riverdale and Declan42 for Sable Ackerman. Links to their profiles are on my profile. And with this chapter, the reapings officially start! :D**

 **\- Knifey**


	3. District Two Reapings

**A/N Hello! Sorry, I took a while to update huh... Well, here's Chapter Two! :) Between school, homework, and water polo practices/games, it's been hard to write this... However, my new plan is to update at least once every weekend. If I somehow have time, I might even update in the middle of the week! :) Also, I've been thinking I should do a sponsor system with points, so I'll have that up on my profile maybe tomorrow or next weekend depending on what happens and how much time I have... But what I was thinking was that I could hide a piece of a song, like a verse from a song in each chapter and if you found it you'd earn 30 sponsor points. And if you somehow found song lyrics that I hadn't known I put in the chapter, you'd earn 40 sponsor points. Just an idea. I tested it out in this chapter with a fairly popular song(or at least everyone in my school has been singing it everywhere...) so tell me if you find it in the reviews or via pm, either one works. Also tell me if you like the idea, that would be great. :) Please don't cheat by going to the reviews... Anyway, enjoy!(Sorry for taking so long to update...)**

 **Clarissa DeRocky: District Two Female, 16**

 _Beep, beep. Beep, beep._ My alarm echoes around my bright room on full volume. My head jerks straight up and instinctively, my arm flies to the snooze button to stop the noise. Once my mind processes that the 'danger' is over, I flop back onto my bed. I'd turned my alarm on full blast last night and flung my curtains wide open to let in sunlight just to make sure I woke up bright and early for reaping day. Ugh. Just imagine if I'd missed it altogether. Of course, my parents would have woken me, or the Peacekeepers would have found me, but still. I shudder at the thought.

I yawn, and stretch out my arms, cracking my back in the process. Then I lean over to my bed stand and completely turn off my alarm so that it doesn't suddenly go off again. I swing my legs out of the comforter and stroll towards my closet, practicing my queenly walk that I've decided to use when I walk up to the stage to volunteer. I plan to be one of the youngest Careers to win. Of course, there's an _if_ in there, I won't lie. I'd like to think that I'm not like other Careers. That I'm not as arrogant and clueless as the rest of them. I won't be just another brute who muscles their way to victory. I plan to use my brains and brawn as a combined, impenetrable force.

Of course, I was expected to be a Peacekeeper like my mother, or even a blacksmith like my dad and brother. They didn't really expect me to start training for the Hunger Games, but seeing when my best friend, Victoria started training, I decided it looked like fun. Boy was I wrong. It was hell. Training for hours, lifting weights ten times your size, learning to swing twelve different sized swords… I got little sleep and acquired a terrible attitude. Everyone sees the Career, the shiny god or goddess that will obviously rise to the top of all of the peasants to the tower of victory. All that is crap. It takes years of training for that. And I've finally made it. Most Careers forget what it was like to train so hard. They think that they were as good as they are purely because they were born with skill. It isn't your skill, it's how hard you train. I always remember my years of training. It keeps me grounded when I feel hopeless. When I feel like quitting and not volunteering, I remember the years I spent leading up to that moment. Today is the day it will all be worth it. Er, well technically the day I win will be when it's worth it, but we can start today.

I yawn once more and slide my closet door open, revealing rows of beautiful dresses and casual and dress shirts. My pants and shorts are tucked away in one of the many drawers I have in my cherry wood dresser. I silently look through the clothes until I find the one I had had in mind. My eyes rest on a flowy, light pink dress hanging above a pair of creamy white heels. I smile sweetly at the outfit and slide the dress off its hanger and change into it. I twirl around in front of the mirror, admiring the shape it gives me. Most dresses make me look awkward, what with all the muscle I have on me. But this dress makes me look desirable. It beautifully contrasts my dark brown hair and makes my olive skin look brighter than usual. Although I have to admit, it does drain the color of my green-blue eyes a bit. But I can live with it. It's not like pure beauty wins the games.

For a second I wonder what happens to the tributes' reaping clothes after the Games. Do they get to keep it if they win? Are they shipped back to the family along with the body if they lose? Do the Capitolites _do_ anything with the body? I wonder if they are shipped back in a nice getup or just the arena outfit… _No. Stop thinking about that, Clarissa. Stop it,_ I reprimand myself. I shake off the bad thoughts and force a smile onto my face. I tiptoe downstairs, knowing my parents and brother, James, are probably still asleep. Usually, my brother stays in his own house, but ever since he's known that I'm going to volunteer, he's been staying over at our house and spending more time with us. He's 24, and has a job as a blacksmith, so I don't understand why he's skipping all his work days to just visit us. It's not like I don't have a chance at winning… I have a rather good chance, in fact.

"Good morning, Clarissa!" I yelp, dropping my heels on the wood stairs. I hear laughter like bell chimes ahead of me in the kitchen and look up to see Victoria standing there, sipping a cup of coffee, her eyes twinkling at me, amused. My mouth twists into a frown. "Always good to see you up and at 'em. Ready for your big day?" she says, sticking her tongue out at me. She sighs and looks up at a corner of the room, pretending to stare into the distance. "Alas, I remember such a day when I was a young, spry turkey like you. I was so excited for this day to come. And now, what a coincidence! We'll both be Victors!" She grins at me, and takes another sip of her coffee.

I lean down and pick up my heels, then trot over to her. "'A young spry turker?'" I question. "We're only four years apart!" I say, rolling my eyes. Although we've got a bit of an age gap, Victoria has been my best friend for a while now. She's almost the only one that I can relate to. She understands me and I understand her, not to mention she's one of the funniest people I know. She can make me smile even on one of my most terrible days. She's never acted like she's superior or better than me, unless she's joking about it. That's what I like about her. "And hey, what are you doing here so early? Who let you in?"

"Early? Pssh, it's 6:00, calm yourself. The reapings start in an hour, so therefore it is not in fact, that early. And to answer your other question, _I_ let myself in," Victoria says, giving me a little proud smirk.

"Of course you did," I mutter, shaking my head. I slide onto one of the bar stools by the kitchen counter and pour myself a bowl of cereal.

"Better stock yourself with food while you can. You won't get very good breakfasts for a while," Victoria murmurs, almost to herself. I stop, mid-spoonful, and look at her. She takes a delicate sip of coffee. Her words really get to me. Is what I'm doing worth it? I've trained for 7 years, and for what? Fame, glory, money? Is it all really worth it? I think about what I'd do with the money. I'd support my family. I'd move in next to Victoria. I'd have enough money to support my future children and husband for as long as they live and provide a stable support for even my grandchildren. Yes, yes it is worth it. I take a bite of cereal.

 **Austin Slader: District Two Male, 18**

The mechanical sound of the car's engine and the chatter of my parents, grandparents, nanny, uncle, and aunt collect all around me, almost driving me insane. This is one of the reasons I especially don't like riding in a car. People never seem to know when to shut up when they aren't gasping for breath from a long walk. I silently stare out my window, imagining how the feeling of volunteering will be like. I almost hope someone else tries volunteering so I can have the satisfaction of beating them to the stage. Or the satisfaction of just… _beating_ them… My mouth twists into a sinister grin.

"I can't believe _he's_ going to be the one this year!" I hear my mother say from the front seat.

"What did you expect, dear? Our little Austin is the best in the academy!" I roll my eyes, although secretly I enjoy the praise and support from my family. Well, it's not like I'll be needing them when I move into my own house in Victor's Village. I won't even need my friends. By the time I win I'll already be popular, and I won't need to use anybody to get there.

"My little sweetcheeks is going to be so famous!" my nanny says in her old, creaky voice. I wince. She doesn't seem to understand that I've grown up.

"How are you feeling? Nervous at all? I was sure nervous when I was about to volunteer," Aunt Tathilana whispers to me, leaning forward from the third row of seats.

I scoff. "Not at all. Completely confident," I reply, smirking. _Lie._ I can feel the surge of butterflies trying to tear out of my stomach as we speak. "I've got these Games in the bag. Don't you worry." _Not a lie._ I know I've got this. I know I can win. I'm the best trained kid in the academy, an obvious choice. My aunt slides back in her seat, silent. For a second, I wonder if I've said something wrong. But then I remember… I don't really care much.

"We're here!" Dad says, pulling into a parking lot scattered with a few shiny cars. Not a lot of people in the district have cars, surprisingly enough. Only the very rich people, such as my family. Since Aunt Tathilana won the Games, she's let us all live with her in the Victor's Village where we have all we need. Still, I'd the like the glory and fame to myself. I don't want to say I'm related to a Victor, I want to say I _am_ a Victor. The moment the car stops, I leap out of the vehicle, wave bye to my semi-shocked family, and trot away towards the Peacekeeper station.

As I'm getting my blood scanned, I look over the tops of other people's heads for my so called 'friends'. It isn't that hard to find them, mingling by their sections. I'm rather giant and bulky, so it's easy for me to intimidate and tower above regular people. My friends, however, are almost nothing like me. Jaynie is boring, but popular, so I hang out with her. She wants to be a Peacekeeper, and is rather… ordinary. I don't usually feel the need to talk to her often. Kingston is like Jaynie, but less ordinary and more popular. Haven is the closest to a real friend. He is so much like me, it's uncanny. It's easy to talk about myself to him, although sometimes I end up 'listening' to him drone on about _himself_ which isn't really that important or even interesting. Lastly, there's Edie, my girlfriend of the month. She's kind of annoying though, and there's bound to be pretty girls in the Capitol for me. I should probably dump her after I volunteer.

I'm on my way to Haven when I hear the loud tap of the microphone. "Welcome, welcome! Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the reapings for the 87th Annual Hunger Games!" I stop in my tracks and look around. All the kids are already in their places and the line for the Peacekeeper station is nearly gone. I hadn't realized we were cutting it so close with the time. Nevertheless, I hurry for once on my way to the eighteen-year-old section, which is fortunately in the front, so everyone can see me volunteer.

"I'm your _new_ escort, Bonnie Clyde," the escort says from the stage. I look up to see a rather short woman dressed in mink fur and caked with pale makeup. Her hair is purple, blue, and green, and she wears a funny looking brown hat atop her head. I almost laugh. _What an odd woman…_ I think.

"Let's start off with the wonderful video of the Dark Days!" Bonnie turns around and the annual video plays out across an enormous screen. I yawn, loudly halfway through, attracting several looks from cameramen as well as other kids. Eventually, the video ends and I try to refocus on the escort, because who knows, the female tribute might be rather manipulative…

"Why don't we start with the ladies?" she says, lowering her gloved hand into the glass bowl of slips of paper. "Nina Re-" she's interrupted by two simultaneous volunteers. One is across the aisle in the female 18 year olds, and the other is farther back in the 16 year old volunteers. I shrug to myself. Happens sometimes, but obviously the 18 year old is going to get to the stage first. Nevertheless, I crane my neck above the crowd to watch it all unfold. A girl in a dark grey dress scurries to the aisle, casting a few glances behind her, trying to look for the other girl, no doubt. She starts forward, and I'm starting to wonder if the other girl decided against volunteering when a white streak whizzes past the 18 year old. She yelps and starts to turn around when another one hits her right at the base of her skull. She falls to the ground and doesn't move. A chorus of whispers buzzes around the kids, and a few Peacekeepers rush to the older girl's side to see if she's still alive. They drag her away from the aisle, speaking to each other in hushed voices.

I turn my attention to the younger girl, a small, dark-haired girl in a light pink dress. She delicately steps past the gawking teens, her feet bare. At the base of the steps, she elegantly scoops up her heels, letting them dangle from her hands as she walks up the stairs. When she reaches the escort, she turns and waves at the crowd. "Hello! I'm Clarissa DeRocky from District Two, and I hope to be the next Victor of the Hunger Games!" She gives the crowd another wave and then hops back to her place on the stage. District Two starts clapping wildly, but I only smile grimly. I wonder why she didn't mention her age. Oh well, I suppose I'll know when I watch the reaping recaps.

"Well, what a show! Why don't we see what lucky gentleman gets to compete alongside this wonderful lady!" She dips her hand into the boys' bowl and withdraws a creamy piece of paper. "Nathaniel Green," she says. I stay quiet, smirking, as the wimpy boy starts on his way to the stage. I want someone else to volunteer so I can have the satisfaction of beating them to the stage. After a while, though, Bonnie calls for volunteers nervously, and nobody volunteers. I sigh and step out of the aisle, almost bored.

"I suppose I should volunteer," I mutter, just loudly enough for the cameras to pick up. Bonnie and the boy tribute breath an audible sigh of relief. He bounds away, down the stairs, and I get the uncanny feeling that I should trip him, so I do just that, sticking out my leg. He promptly trips head over heel and stays on the ground, sniffling. I smirk, not caring enough to look back. I suddenly notice that the female tribute- what was her name? Clarissa? -is staring at me in the most peculiar way. I self consciously comb my raven black hair to the side and risk a glance at my outfit. Nothing's changed. It's the same black trousers and white-buttoned shirt I'd picked out this morning. I guess this girl's just got a screw loose. I decide to stare her down with my cold, grey eyes. She raises her eyebrows, seemingly surprised, and looks away, although I catch her glancing at me a few times.

"Well then. Go on, shake hands, won't you?" Bonnie says, gesturing us together. I begrudgingly move towards Clarissa, holding out my hand. She takes it and we shake hands, then are led away into the Justice Building.

I don't really bother paying attention to my family's visit. All they say is how much they love me, how much they believe in me, and my aunt gives me some advice, that's all. Nothing much that's worth my time. What I'm really waiting for is Edie's visit. I've been going over how I'm going to dump her for a while now. Also, I might as well ditch my friends while I'm at it. Maybe I'll keep Haven for the fun of it. And maybe also Kingston because he attracts all the babes. So then I guess I just have to get rid of Edie and Jaynie. That'll be easy enough.

"Goodbye, Austin! See you soon," my grandma says sadly as she leaves the room. _Wait, what?_ I almost laugh. I hadn't even noticed my family were leaving! Ah well, doesn't matter to me, anyway.

"Ayyyee, Austin, my main man, what's up?" Kingston says, sliding into the room, grinning. He has a new girl with him that I don't know, and she's kind of hot. And then there's Jaynie looking kind of uncomfortable, and beside her is Haven, looking either jealous or bored or both. Probably jealous for obvious reasons.

"Hey," I say bluntly. "Jaynie, I don't think we should be friends anymore," I say, smiling sarcastically. She raises both eyebrows and crosses her arms on her chest.

"Uh… okay then. I guess I'm fine with that. I was only friends with you because your dad works in the Peacekeeper department… I never even liked you. Now that I'm well on my way to becoming a promising Peacekeeper, I don't need you anymore. Bye, Austin," she says, turning to head out the door. I stare, open-mouthed at her swishing hair as she leaves. _No way did I just get stood up by_ her _._ I look around at the others and scowl to cover my shock. "Her loss," I mutter defensively. Kingston gives me a weird look, but the girl and Haven just look vacant and bored, although the girl looks kind of clueless.

We stand in silence for a while, until I start talking about myself, and then allow Haven some time to talk about _himself_ , although I can tell that Kingston and the girl are bored with him. He doesn't have as interesting a life as I do. In a few more minutes, all three of them leave, and Edie strolls in like a queen.

"Hey, babe," she says, sitting elegantly on the sofa. I turn around from where I stand a few feet in front of the door. "Listen, I'm not as dumb as your other girlfriends you've had. I know you don't want me anymore. You going off to win the Games are going to change you though, trust me. How about we strike up a deal?" She pauses, looking at me questioningly as if she isn't quite sure she's actually right.

"Go on," I mutter gruffly. She smiles sweetly at me.

"What if I stay your girlfriend unless you die or find a pretty Capitolite who seems better than me? That way if you come home and you didn't find anyone pretty enough, you'll still have me." She smiles again, and gently fixes her hair, then stares up at me expectantly.

"Uh…" I start to say, dumbfounded. "I guess," I say, recovering. _Doesn't matter. I know I'll find some pretty girl that's better than Edie. Edie's too annoying and arrogant._

"Great," Edie squeals, leaping up from the couch and kissing me. Her blond curls bounce around my shoulder, tickling me and I remember why I started dating her in the first place. Then she releases me and bounds out the door, and I'm left still smelling her sweet perfume. Maybe not dumping Edie was a good decision… I'll never know until I get back, I guess.

Thinking about it, I can't wait to come back here, with my new house in Victor's Village. I smile menacingly at the thought.

 **A/N If you have any suggestions that would be great to hear from you! Also remember to tell me what you think of the sponsor system. :) And, obviously, review about the stars of the this chapter, Austin and Clarissa... :D Credit to ThomasHungerGamesFan for Clarissa DeRocky and maddymellark for Austin Slader. The links to them can be found on my profile. :) *We out.***

 **\- Knifey**


	4. The End

Hey guys, I'm really really sorry but I think this is the end of this story. I tried really hard to update and it was almost always on mind that I should go home and start writing but I was never really focused enough on it. I didn't want to keep you guys in the dark about all of this and that's why I'm writing this to anyone who still might be reading. I had such high hopes for this story, and now it's just another failure like my last SYOT. I tried to make up for a failure with a success, but I guess that didn't turn out as well as I thought it would, huh? I'm truly sorry for leading you on to nothing and I'm sorry for wasting your time and work. I didn't even make it that far in this story. I'm sorry for not being able to keep writing this, and I know a lot of you guys are probably mad and I'm sorry for that. I tried to make it better, but maybe I just wasn't cut out for writing SYOTs... I hope you guys can get over this and resubmit your tributes to another SYOT with a more promising author who can actually update and finish their stories. I'm not quitting fanfiction, but I don't think I can write or update much so I'll be wandering around here every so often and maybe update or write stories that _aren't_ SYOTs. Maybe those will turn out better... I'm really sorry for wasting your time... If you guys want, my account on fictionpress is much more... active, and I post poems on there _at least_ once every week. Again, I'm really sorry for wasting your time and energy, I know how valuable that stuff is. I hope you guys can all find peace with this... Over and out I guess.

\- Knifey(LilBunniBun on fictionpress)


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